November 13th, 2013, 1am

It was 2°C with few clouds. The breeze was light.

A blood vessel in his brain gave way and he was transformed into a thing. It was burned, the ashes were put in a container not meant to last, the container was buried in a forest. I know the place. People say they want to be put there when they have ceased being people. My father has dissolved completely now. He is with all the other molecules, for the rest of time. I write this on the last computer he owned.

Allan, Carla, Kristen, Lia and 4 others said thanks.

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Marcus Hammerschmitt

Writer, journalist and photographer. Eighteen books so far, on paper and on screen. My biography is boring, my life is not.

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